


Annabeth Chase and the Sea of Monsters

by malguino



Series: Annabeth Chase and the Olympians [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Book 2: The Sea of Monsters (Percy Jackson), CampHalfBlood, Fanfiction, Half-Blood, LukeCastellan, Minor Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, PJO, POV Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), annabethchaseandtheseaofmonsters, demigod - Freeform, greekmythology, groverunderwood, percabeth, percyjacksonandtheheroesofolympus, rickriordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malguino/pseuds/malguino
Summary: Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters from Annabeth's perspective![2/5] the second book in my Annabeth Chase series!all credit goes to Rick Riordan himself for creating the characters and the plot!--------------------------------------13 year old Annabeth Chase and her friends sneak out of camp to go on a dangerous quest
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: Annabeth Chase and the Olympians [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140185
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Percy Plays Dodgeball with Cannibals

My nightmare started like this.

I was standing next to a tall pine tree, overlooking a beautiful view. But not just any view. It was a view I was extremely familiar with. It was Camp Half-Blood. My home.

The landscape was dotted with buildings, resembling ancient Greek architecture— an open-air pavilion, and amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun.

I frowned. Something was off. Usually campers and satyrs played volleyball in the nearby sand pit. Kids were always canoeing across the small lake, or shooting targets at an archery range, or riding horses down a wooded trail, but none of that was happening.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned. A girl around my age, with unruly black, punk-style hair, dark eyeliner around her electric blue eyes, and freckles across her nose was looking at the view, not at me.

When I studied Thalia closer, I realized her skin had an undertone of green and her clothes didn't fit her frame. Her cheeks were shrunken in and she had dark under eye circles.

Thalia finally spoke, "I'm dying, Annabeth, and so is my tree, I can't protect camp much longer."

"What do you mean you're dying?"

Every camper knew the story behind her tree. Six years ago, Thalia, me and two other kids named Grover and Luke had come to Camp Half-Blood chased by an army of monsters. When we got cornered on top of this hill, Thalia, a daughter of Zeus, had made her last stand here to give us time to reach safety. As she was dying, her father Zeus took pity on her and changed her into a pine tree. Her spirit had reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters. The pine had been here ever since, strong and healthy.

But now, it's needles were yellow. A huge pile of dead ones littered the base of the tree. In the centre of the trunk, a meter from the ground, was a puncture mark the size of a bullet hole, oozing green sap.

A sliver of ice ran through my chest. Now I understood why Thalia couldn't protect the camp. The magical borders were failing because Thalia's tree was dying.

Her tree had been poisoned.

"You need to come back, give campers some hope that they'll survive. Please. I'm counting on you. They won't survive defending camp for long."

She started to fade.

"No! Wait! Thalia I still have questions! Come back!"

I woke up in my bed, panting and sweating. This wasn't the first time I had that dream, but Thalia never had told me to go back to camp. I looked at my watch. 6:15 am. I stumbled out of bed and towards my closet.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed with my Yankees hat and my dagger strapped to my waist and opening my bedroom door slowly.

I walked out and into the kitchen, filling my backpack up with food.

When I walked out of the kitchen, to identical little boys were waiting for me outside.

"Hi Bobby, hi Matthew."

"Where are you going?"

I hesitated. They didn't understand the concept of running away, and I envied them for it. They were always welcome at this house, never pushed away for what they are even though they couldn't control it. I pushed the thought aside.

"I have to get back to camp. Remember? I stay there now." They looked at me which confusion and I fought down my emotions.

"I love you guys." I pulled them into a tight embrace. After a few seconds, I let go, and without turning around, I left.

Monsters attacked me everyday for six days as I traveled by foot. I had to get to camp, but on my own, I wasn't so sure that I could do it. If camp is in trouble, maybe Percy could help me figure out whats going on.

While I walked through the woods and I couldn't help but be reminded of when I was seven. That was my first time I ran away from home. Athena had guided me towards help. Two other demigods, Luke and Thalia.

_I promise, we'll be a family._

I kicked a stone. _Promises don't mean anything_ , I thought angrily. They're made to be broken. Nothing lasts forever. I think that's why I liked architecture so much. It would allow me to build something permanent, something that lasts forever. Something you can count on.

By the time I reached where Percy's apartment the sun had risen. I put my Yankees cap on, which was a magic gift from my mom, and instantly vanished.

I climbed about five stories until I saw a familiar black head of hair.

Morning sunlight filtered through Percy's bedroom window. Percy looked straight at me, and I was about to take off my hat until I heard a knock on his bedroom door – a woman called, "Percy, you're going to be late" – and I pressed myself to the wall, next to the window. If I wanted to tell him about my dreams, I needed to get Percy alone.

While I waited for Percy to leave his room, I 

about ten minutes after Percy left his room, then I opened the window and crawled inside. I walked through the door and followed the sound of voices.

Percy was hugging his mom, and he left through the front door, and I slipped out after him and followed him to school.

Percy's first class of the day was English and I watched as his teachers sent the students into the yard to spend an hour with no adult supervision to see what would happen because they read a book called Lord of the Flies, where all these kids get marooned on an island and go psycho.

What happened was a massive wedgie contest between the seventh and eighth graders, two pebble fights and a full-tackle basketball game.

One kid lead all those activities. He wasn't big or strong, but he acted like he was. He had eyes like a pit bull, and shaggy black hair, and he was dressed in expensive but sloppy clothes, like he wanted everybody to see how little he cared about his family's money.

He was giving everybody wedgies until he made the mistake of trying it on Percy's friend.

I fell off the tree branch I was sitting on. I stood up and squinted at his friend as a shiver went down my spine. No... Percy wouldn't...

The bully snuck up behind him and tried to give him a wedgie, and Percy's friend panicked. It swatted the bully away a little too hard. He flew five meters and got tangled in the little kids' tyre swing.

"You freak!" The bully yelled. "Why don't you go back to your cardboard box!"

Percy's friend started sobbing. It sat down on the jungle gym so hard it bent the bar, and buried his head in his hands.

"Take it back, Sloan!" Percy shouted. The bully just sneered at him.

"Why do you even bother, Jackson? You might have friends if you weren't always sticking up for that freak."

Percy balled his fists. "He's not a freak. He's just..."

Percy tried to think of the right thing to say, but the bully wasn't listening. He and his big ugly friends were too busy laughing.

"Just wait till PE, Jackson," he called. "You are so dead."

When the first period ended, Percy's English teacher came outside to inspect the carnage. He pronounced that they understood Lord of the Flies perfectly. They all passed his course, and they should never, never grow up to be violent people.

The bully nodded earnestly, then gave Percy a chiptoothed grin. Percy had to promise to buy his friend an extra peanut butter sandwich at lunch to get him to stop sobbing.

"I ... I am a freak?" It asked Percy.

"No," he promised, gritting hid teeth. "Matt Sloan is the freak."

His friend sniffled. "You are a good friend. Miss you next year if ... if I can't..." His voice trembled.

"Don't worry, big guy," Percy managed. "Everything's going to be fine."

His friend gave Percy a grateful look.

Percy's next exam was science. His teacher told them that they had to mix chemicals until they succeeded in making something explode. Percy's friend was his lab partner. His hands were way too big for the tiny vials they were supposed to use. It accidentally knocked a tray of chemicals off the counter and made an orange mushroom cloud in the trashcan.

After the teacher evacuated the lab and called the hazardous waste removal squad, she praised Percy and his friend for being natural chemists. They were the first ones who'd ever aced her exam in under thirty seconds. I shook my head at her arrogance.

In social studies, while everyone were drawing latitude/longitude maps, Percy opened his notebook and stared at the photo inside. My eyes grew wide. It was a picture of me, standing by the Lincoln Memorial when I was on vacation in Washington, DC. I had e-mailed Percy that picture after spring break. I didn't know he had printed it out.

Seeing how I want to be an architect when I grow up, I'm always visiting famous monuments.

Percy was about to close his notebook when the bullly, Matt Sloan, reached over and ripped the photo out of the rings.

"Hey!" Percy protested.

Sloan checked out the picture and his eyes got wide. "No way, Jackson. Who is that? She is not your –"

"Give it back!"

My ears felt hot and they couldn't even see me. Sloan handed the photo to his ugly buddies, who snickered and started it up to make spit wads. They were new kids who must've been visiting, because they were all wearing those stupid HI! MY NAME IS: tags from the admissions office. They must've had a weird sense of humor, too, because they'd all filled in strange names like: MARROW SUCKER, SKULL EATER and JOE BOB. No human beings had names like that.

"These guys are moving here next year," Sloan bragged, like that was supposed to scare Percy. "I bet they can pay the tuition, too, unlike your retard friend."

"He's not retarded." Why was Percy defending it so much?

"You're such a loser, Jackson. Good thing I'm gonna put you out of your misery next period."

His huge buddies chewed up my face. I wanted to pulverize them, but I was under strict orders from Chiron never to take my anger out on regular mortals, no matter how obnoxious they were. I had to save my fighting for monsters. Still, part of me thought, if Sloan only knew I was right here... The bell rang.

I decided to try my luck and I whispered, "Percy!"

He looked around the locker area, shook his head and let the crowd of kids carry him away. I was being pushed around so much I had to take off my invisibility cap so nobody would be confused as to why they were running into air.

The hallways cleared and I was standing by myself next to a bathroom. I sighed, and started wandering the school, looking for the gyms.

I was contemplating going into a classroom and asking for directions when I heard a deep voice yell, "I hope so, Perseus Jackson! I hope so!"

The way he said Percy's name sent a chill down my back. Nobody called him Perseus except those who knew his true identity. Friends ... and enemies.

Monsters.

I started to run.

I found a pair of double doors

_WHOOOOOOOM!_

The wall right next to me blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic supports and other various nasty personal belongings rained all over the gym, which happened to be right there.

I ran inside and slowly crept behind the monster until I had a very pretty view of its backside, and I was about to charge when someone yelled, "Stop! It's me you want!"

"You wish to die first, young hero?"

The deep voice from before said.

And I watched as Percy charged at the Laistrygonian. Its not the first time he's done something this stupid.

It laughed. "My lunch approaches."

He raised his arm to throw and I charged, sinking my blade into his lower back. The ball dropped out of his hand. The monster stared down at the knife that had just run him through from behind. He muttered, "Ow," and burst into a cloud of green flame.

Standing in the smoke was Percy, staring at me. His face was grimy and scratched. His tie-dye shirt was smoking and was dotted with holes.

Matt Sloan, who'd been standing there dumbfounded, finally came to his senses. He blinked at me, as if he dimly recognized me from Percy's notebook picture.

"That's the girl ... That's the girl –"

I punched him in the nose and knocked him flat.

"And you," I told him, "lay off my friend."

The gym was in flames. Kids were running around screaming. I heard sirens wailing and a garbled voice over the intercom. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, I could see a crowd of teachers piling up at the door, frantically trying to open it.

"Annabeth..." Percy stammered. "How did you ... how long have you..."

"Pretty much all morning." I sheathed my bronze knife. "I've been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone."

"The shadow I saw this morning – that was –" Percy's face went red. "Oh my gods, you were looking in my bedroom window?"

"There's no time to explain!" I snapped, though I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. "I just didn't want to –"

"There!" a woman screamed. The doors burst open and the adults came pouring in. "Meet me outside," I told Percy. "And him." I pointed to his friend, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. I wrinkled my nose. "You'd better bring him."

"What?"

"No time!" I said. "Hurry!" I put on my Yankees baseball cap and disappeared. I ran towards the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: welcome back everyone! I'm so happy to announce that Annabeth Chase and the Sea of Monsters is officially underway!! How's everyones day so far? Mines great😁


	2. We Hail the Taxi of Eternal Torment

I was waiting for Percy in an alley down Church Street. I pulled Percy and his friend off the sidewalk just as a fire truck screamed past, heading for Meriwether Prep.

"Where'd you find him?" I demanded, pointing at it.

"He's my friend," He told me.

"Is he homeless?"

"What does that have to do with anything? He can hear you, you know. Why don't you ask him?"

I was surprised. "He can talk?"

"I talk," It admitted. "You are pretty."

"Ah! Gross!" I stepped away from it.

Percy examined it's hands and then said in disbelief, "Tyson," It had a _name_? "Your hands aren't even burned."

"Of course not," I muttered. "I'm surprised the Laistrygonians had the guts to attack you with him around."

It, Tyson, seemed fascinated by my blonde hair. He tried to touch it, but I smacked his hand away.

"Annabeth," Percy said, "what are you talking about? Laistry-what?"

"Laistrygonians. The monsters in the gym. They're a race of giant cannibals who live in the far north. Odysseus ran into them once, but I've never seen them as far south as New York before."

"Laistry – I can't even say that. What would you call them in English?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Canadians," I decided. "Now come on, we have to get out of here."

"The police'll be after me."

"That's the least of our problems," I said. Tyson probably wouldn't be able to comprehend what we were talking about, and I needed to tell Percy about me dreams. "Have you been having the dreams?"

"The dreams ... about Grover?"

I felt myself pale. "Grover? No, what about Grover?" Percy told me his dream.

"Why? What were you dreaming about?"

I wondered if Percy's dream about Grover had something to do with camp. Anxiety was eating me slowly. I was scared for Grover.

"Camp," I said at last. "Big trouble at camp."

"My mom was saying the same thing! But what kind of trouble?"

"I don't know exactly. Something's wrong. We have to get there right away. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia, trying to stop me. Have you had a lot of attacks?"

Percy shook his head. "None all year ... until today."

"None? But how..." My eyes drifted to Tyson. "Oh."

"What do mean, "oh"?"

Tyson raised his hand like he was still in class. "Canadians in the gym called Percy something ... Son of the Sea God?" Percy and I exchanged looks. He would find out soon enough anyway. I shrugged.

Percy hesitated before saying, "Big guy, you ever hear those old stories about the Greek gods? Like Zeus, Poseidon, Athena –"

"Yes," Tyson said.

"Well ... those gods are still alive. They kind of follow Western Civilization around, living in the strongest countries, so like now they're in the U.S. And sometimes they have kids with mortals. Kids called half-bloods."

"Yes," Tyson said, like he was still waiting for Percy to get to the point.

"Uh, well, Annabeth and I are half-bloods," Percy said. 'We're like ... heroes-in-training. And whenever monsters pick up our scent, they attack us. That's what those giants were in the gym. Monsters."

"Yes." Percy stared at it. He didn't seem surprised or confused by what he was telling it, which only proved my point about what it was.

"So ... you believe me?" Tyson nodded. "But you are ... Son of the Sea God?"

"Yeah," Perct admitted. "My dad is Poseidon."

Tyson frowned. Now he looked confused. "But then..."

A siren wailed. A police car raced past our alley.

"We don't have time for this," I said. "We'll talk in the taxi."

"A taxi all the way to camp?" Percy said. "You know how much money –"

"Trust me." Percy hesitated. "What about Tyson?"

I imagined escorting it into Camp Half-Blood. If I was right about what it was, he wouldn't be safe at camp. On the other hand, the cops were looking for him.

"We can't just leave him," Percy decided. "He'll be in trouble, too."

"Yeah." I said. "We definitely need to take him. Now come on."

Percy frowned, but he followed me down the alley. Together the three of us sneaked through the side streets of downtown while a huge column of smoke billowed up behind us from my school gymnasium.

"Here." I stopped us on the corner of Thomas and Trimble. I fished around in my backpack.

"I hope I have one left."

"What are you looking for?" Percy asked. All around us, sirens wailed. I figured it wouldn't be long before more cops cruised by, looking for juvenile delinquent gym-bombers. No doubt Matt Sloan had given them a statement by now. He'd probably twisted the story around so that Tyson and Percy were the bloodthirsty cannibals.

"Found one. Thank the gods." I pulled out a drachma, the currency of Mount Olympus. It had Zeus's likeness stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other.

"Annabeth," Percy said, "New York taxi drivers won't take that."

 _"Anakoche_ " I shouted in Ancient Greek. " _Harma epitribeios!_ "

What I said in the language of Olympus was, _Stop, Chariot of Damnation!_ This wasn't my favorite form of travel, but its the fastest.

I threw my coin into the street, but instead of clattering on the tarmac, the drachma sank right through and disappeared. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, just where the coin had fallen, the tarmac darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking space – bubbling red liquid like blood. Then a car erupted from the ooze. It was a taxi, all right, but, unlike every other taxi in New York, it wasn't yellow. It was smoky grey. I mean it looked like it was woven out of smoke, like you could walk right through it. There were words printed on the door – something like GYAR SSIRES – my dyslexia made it hard for me to decipher what it said but I knew it said Gray Sisters. The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a mop of grizzled hair covering her eyes, and she spoke in a weird mumbling way, like she'd just had a shot of Novocain.

"Passage? Passage?"

"Three to Camp Half-Blood," I said. I opened the cab's back door and waved at Percy to get in.

"Ach!" the old woman screeched. "We don't take his kind!"

She pointed a bony finger at Tyson. I knew Percy wouldn't agree to leave him behind.

"'Extra pay," I promised. "Three more drachmas on arrival."

"Done!" the woman screamed. I only hoped I had three more drachmas lying around. Reluctantly Percy got in the cab. Tyson squeezed in the middle. I crawled in last. The interior was also smoky grey, but it felt solid enough. The seat was cracked and lumpy – no different than most taxis. There was no Plexiglas screen separating us from the here were three old ladies driving. They were all crammed in the front seat, each with stringy hair covering her eyes, bony hands and a charcoal-coloured sackcloth dress. The one driving said,

"Long Island! Out-of-metro fare bonus! Ha!" She floored the accelerator, and my head slammed against the backrest. A pre-recorded voice came on over the speaker: _Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!_ I looked down and found a large black chain instead of a seat belt. I didn't touch it.

The cab sped around the corner of West Broadway, and the grey lady sitting in the middle screeched, "Look out! Go left!"

"Well, if you'd give me the eye, Tempest, I could see that!" the driver complained, then swerved to avoid an oncoming delivery truck, ran over the kerb with a jaw-rattling thump, and flew into the next block.

"Wasp!" the third lady said to the driver. "Give me the girl's coin! I want to bite it."

"You bit it last time, Anger!" said the driver, whose name must've been Wasp. "It's my turn!"

"Is not!" yelled the one called Anger.

The middle one, Tempest, screamed, "Red light!" "Brake!' yelled Anger. Instead, Wasp floored the accelerator and rode up on the kerb, screeching around another corner, and knocking over a newspaper box. She left my stomach somewhere back on Broome Street.

"Excuse me," Percy said. "But ... can you see?"

"No!" screamed Wasp from behind the wheel.

"No!" screamed Tempest from the middle.

"Of course!" screamed Anger by the shotgun window.

Percy looked at me. "They're blind?"

"Not completely," I said. "They have an eye."

"One eye?"

"Yeah."

"Each?

"No. One eye total."

Next to me, Tyson groaned and grabbed the seat.

"Not feeling so good."

"Oh, man," Percy said. "Hang in there, big guy. Anybody got a garbage bag or something?"

The three grey ladies were too busy squabbling to pay him any attention. Percy looked over at me, while I was hanging on for dear life, and gave me a why-did-you-do-this-to-me look.

"Hey," I said, "Grey Sisters Taxi is the fastest way to camp."

"Then why didn't you take it from Virginia?"

"That's outside their service area," I said. Wasn't that obvious? "They only serve Greater New York and surrounding communities."

"We've had famous people in this cab!" Anger exclaimed. "Jason! You remember him?"

"Don't remind me!" Wasp wailed. "And we didn't have a cab back then, you old bat. That was three thousand years ago!"

"Give me the tooth!" Anger tried to grab at Wasp's mouth, but Wasp swatted her hand away.

"Only if Tempest gives me the eye!"

"No!" Tempest screeched. "You had it yesterday!"

"But I'm driving, you old hag!"

"Excuses! Turn! That was your turn!"

Wasp swerved hard onto Delancey Street, squishing Percy between Tyson and the door. She punched the gas and we shot up the Williamsburg Bridge at seventy miles an hour.

The three sisters were fighting for real now, slapping each other as Anger tried to grab at Wasp's face and Wasp tried to grab at Tempest's. With their hair flying and their mouths open, screaming at each other, I realized that none of the sisters had any teeth except for Wasp, who had one mossy yellow incisor. Instead of eyes, they just had closed, sunken eyelids, except for Anger, who had one bloodshot green eye that stared at everything hungrily, as if it couldn't get enough of anything it saw.

Finally Anger, who had the advantage of sight, managed to yank the tooth out of her sister Wasp's mouth. This made Wasp so mad she swerved towards the edge of the Williamsburg Bridge, yelling, "'Ivit back! 'Ivit back!" Tyson groaned and clutched his stomach.

"Uh, if anybody's interested," Percy said, "we're going to die!"

"Don't worry," I told Percy, though my voice sounded pretty worried. "The Grey Sisters know what they're doing. They're really very wise."

We were skimming along the edge of a bridge forty metres above the East River.

"Yes, wise!" Anger grinned in the rear-view mirror, showing off her newly acquired tooth. "We know things!"

"Every street in Manhattan!" Wasp bragged, still hitting her sister. "The capital of Nepal!"

"The location you seek!' Tempest added.

Immediately her sisters pummelled her from either side, screaming, "Be quiet! Be quiet! He didn't even ask yet!"

"What?" Percy said. "What location? I'm not seeking any –"

"Nothing!" Tempest said. "You're right, boy. It's nothing!"

"Tell me."

"No" they all screamed.

"The last time we told, it was horrible!" Tempest said.

"Eye tossed in a lake!" Anger agreed.

"Years to find it again!" Wasp moaned. "And speaking of that – give it back!"

"No!" yelled Anger.

"Eye!" Wasp yelled. "Gimme!"

She whacked her sister Anger on the back. There was a sickening pop and something flew out of Anger's face. Anger fumbled for it, trying to catch it, but she only managed to bat it with the back of her hand. The slimy green orb sailed over her shoulder, into the back seat, and straight into Percy's lap. He jumped so hard, his head hit the ceiling and the eyeball rolled away. I would've laughed under different circumstances.

"I can't see!" all three sisters yelled.

"Give me the eye!" Wasp wailed. "Give her the eye!" I screamed.

"I don't have it!" Percy said.

"There, by your foot," I said. "Don't step on it! Get it!"

"I'm not picking that up!" So he can stand up to Hades lord of the underworld and can't pick up an eye, good to know.

The taxi slammed against the guardrail and skidded along with a horrible grinding noise. The whole car shuddered, billowing grey smoke as if it were about to dissolve from the strain.

"Going to be sick!" Tyson warned.

"Annabeth," Percy yelled, "let Tyson use your backpack!"

"Are you crazy?" I yelled back. We were almost there. "Get the eye!"

Wasp yanked the wheel, and the taxi swerved away from the rail. We hurtled down the bridge towards Brooklyn, going faster than any human taxi. The Grey Sisters screeched and pummelled each other and cried out for their eye.

At last Percy ripped off a chunk of his tie-dyed T-shirt, which was already falling apart from all the burn marks, and used it to pick the eyeball off the floor.

"Nice boy!" Anger cried, as if she somehow knew he had her missing peeper. "Give it back!"

"Not until you explain," Percy told her and I groaned. "What were you talking about, the location I seek?"

"No time!" Tempest cried. "Accelerating!" I looked out the window. Sure enough, trees and cars and whole neighbourhoods were now zipping by in a grey blur. We were already out of Brooklyn, heading through the middle of Long Island.

"Percy," I warned, "they can't find our destination without the eye. We'll just keep accelerating until we break into a million pieces."

"First they have to tell me," Percy said. "Or I'll open the window and throw the eye into oncoming traffic."

"No!" the Grey Sisters wailed. "Too dangerous!"

"I'm rolling down the window."

"Wait!" the Grey Sisters screamed. "Thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve!"

They belted it out like a quarterback calling a play.

"What do you mean?" Percy said. "That makes no sense!"

"Thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve!" Anger wailed. "That's all we can tell you. Now give us the eye! Almost to camp!"

We were off the highway now, zipping through the countryside of northern Long Island. I could see Half-Blood Hill ahead of us, with its giant pine tree at the crest – Thalia's tree, which contained the life force of a fallen hero.

"Percy!" I said more urgently. "Give them the eye now!"

He decided not to argue and threw the eye into Wasp's lap. The old lady snatched it up, pushed it into her eye socket like somebody putting in a contact lens, and blinked. "Whoa!"

She slammed on the brakes. The taxi spun four or five times in a cloud of smoke and squealed to a halt in the middle of the farm road at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

Tyson let loose a huge belch. "Better now."

"All right," Percy told the Grey Sisters. "Now tell me what those numbers mean."

"No time!" I opened my door. "We have to get out now."

I started running to Half-Blood Hill. At the crest of the hill was a group of campers. And they were under attack. ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: wow i already forgot to post this im such an amazing author. thats so weird referring to myself as an author because it doesn't feel like i am one.


	3. Tyson Plays With Fire

The view on Half-Blood Hill wasn't pretty. There were two bulls terrorizing the camp. And not just regular bulls – bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn't bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.

As soon as we exited the taxi, the Grey Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left us on the side of the road, Tyson and Percy still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes, and me with nothing but my backpack and knife.

"Oh, man," I said, looking at the battle raging on the hill.

What worried me most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried me was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.

_Thalia warned me._

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice – gruff and familiar. Border patrol? I thought. The camp didn't have a border patrol.

"It's Clarisse," I said. "Come on, we have to help her."

Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on my 'to do' list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. She tried to torment me for most of my time at camp.

Still, she _was_ in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horsehair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk. Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder.

Percy uncapped his ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until he held the bronze sword Anaklusmos in his hands.

"Tyson, stay here. I don't want you taking any more chances."

"No!" I said. As much as I don't want any help from _his_ kind, Tyson was our best bet. "We need him."

Percy stared at me. "He's mortal. He got lucky with the dodgeballs but he can't –"

"Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus himself. We can't fight them without Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We'll get burned to a crisp."

"Medea's what?"

I rummaged through my backpack and cursed. "I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my nightstand at home. Why didn't I bring it?" Bronze bulls hated coconut, I found that out the hard way.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not going to let Tyson get fried"

"Percy –"

"Tyson, stay back."

Percy raised his sword. "I'm going in."

Tyson tried to protest, but Percy and I were already running up the hill towards Clarisse, who was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder to shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide-and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.

Unfortunately, Clarisse could only muster six campers. The other four were still running around with their helmets on fire. I ran towards them, trying to help. I taunted one of the bulls into chasing me, then turned invisible, completely confusing the monster. The other bull charged Clarisse's line. Percy was halfway up the hill – not close enough to help. Clarisse hadn't even seen him yet. The bull moved deadly fast for something so big. Its metal hide gleamed in the sun. It had fist-sized rubies for eyes and horns of polished silver. When it opened its hinged mouth, a column of white-hot flame blasted out.

"Hold the line!" Clarisse ordered her warriors. Whatever else you could say about Clarisse, she was brave. She was a big girl with cruel eyes like her father's. She looked like she was born to wear Greek battle armor, but I didn't see how even she could stand against that bull's charge.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the other bull lost interest in finding me. It turned, wheeling around behind Clarisse on her unprotected side.

"Behind you!" Percy yelled. "Look out!"

He shouldn't have said anything, because all he did was startle her. Bull Number One crashed into her shield, and the phalanx broke. Clarisse went flying backwards and landed in a smoldering patch of grass. The bull charged past her, but not before blasting the other heroes with its fiery breath. Their shields melted right off their arms. They dropped their weapons and ran as Bull Number Two closed in on Clarisse for the kill.

Percy lunged forward and grabbed Clarisse by the straps of her armor. he dragged her out of the way just as Bull Number Two freight-trained past. He gave it a good swipe with Riptide and cut a huge gash in its flank, but the monster just creaked and groaned and kept on going.

"Let me go!" Clarisse yelled. "Percy, curse you!"

He dropped her in a heap next to the pine tree and turned to face the bulls. We were on the inside slope of the hill now, the valley of Camp Half-Blood directly below us – the cabins, the training facilities, the Big House – all of it at risk if these bulls got past us.

I started shouting orders to the other heroes, telling them to spread out and keep the bulls distracted. Bull Number One ran a wide arc, making its way back towards Percy. As it passed the middle of the hill, where the invisible boundary line should've kept it out, it slowed down a little, as if it were struggling against a strong wind; but then it broke through and kept coming. Bull Number Two turned to face Percy too, fire sputtering from the gash he had cut in its side.

Percy was extremely out of practice. He lunged but Bull Number Two blew flames at him. He rolled aside and his foot caught onto a tree root. Still, he managed to slash with his sword and lop off part of the monster's snout. It galloped away, wild and disoriented.

Percy stood, but fell right away. His ankle was sprained, maybe broken. Bull Number One charged straight towards him. No way could he would be able to crawl out of its path.

I shouted, "Tyson, help him!" Somewhere near, towards the crest of the hill, Tyson wailed, "Can't – get – through!"

I cursed myself, how could I have forgotten?

"I, Annabeth Chase, give you permission to enter camp!"

Thunder shook the hillside. Suddenly Tyson was there, barreling towards Percy, yelling, "Percy needs help!"

He dived between Percy and the bull just as it unleashed a nuclear firestorm.

"Tyson!" Percy yelled.

The blast swirled around him like a red tornado. I could only see the black silhouette of his body. When the fire died, Tyson was still standing there, completely unharmed. Not even his grungy clothes were scorched. The bull must've been as surprised as Percy was, which was saying something, but before it could unleash a second blast, Tyson balled his fists and slammed them into the bull's face.

"BAD COW!"

His fists made a crater where the bronze bull's snout used to be. Two small columns of flame shot out of its ears. Tyson hit it again, and the bronze crumpled under his hands like aluminium foil. The bull's face now looked like a sock puppet pulled inside out.

"Down!" Tyson yelled.

The bull staggered and fell on its back. Its legs moved feebly in the air, steam coming out of its ruined head in odd places.

I ran over to check on Percy and I gave him some Olympian nectar to drink from my canteen. There was a burning smell that was coming from Percy. The hair on his arms had been completely singed off.

"The other bull?" Percy asked. I pointed down the hill. Clarisse had taken care of Bad Cow Number Two. She'd impaled it through the back leg with a celestial bronze spear. Now, with its snout half gone and a huge gash in its side, it was trying to run in slow motion, going in circles like some kind of merry-go-round animal.

Clarisse pulled off her helmet and marched towards us. A strand of her stringy brown hair was smoldering, but she didn't seem to notice. "You – ruin – everything!" she yelled at us. "I had it under control!"

"Good to see you too, Clarisse." I grumbled.

"Argh!" Clarisse screamed. "Don't ever, EVER try saving me again!"

"Clarisse," I said, "you've got wounded campers."

That sobered her up. Even Clarisse cared about the soldiers under her command.

"I'll be back," she growled, then trudged off to assess the damage.

Percy stared at Tyson. "You didn't die."

Tyson looked down like he was embarrassed. "I am sorry. Came to help. Disobeyed you."

"My fault," I said. Why I was defending him, I didn't know. "I had no choice. I had to let Tyson cross the boundary line to save you. Otherwise, you would've died."

"Let him cross the boundary line?" Percy asked. "But –"

"Percy," I said, realizing he didn't even have a clue about what Tyson was. "have you ever looked at Tyson closely? I mean... in the face. Ignore the Mist, and really look at him."

The Mist makes humans see only what their brains can process... I knew it could fool demigods, too. Percy looked Tyson in the face. It wasn't easy. I forced myself to focus at his crooked teeth, then to his big lumpy nose, then a little higher at his eye. One large, calf-brown eye, right in the middle of his forehead, with thick lashes and big tears trickling down his cheeks on either side.

"Tyson," Percy stammered. "You're a..."

"Cyclops," I offered. "A baby, by the looks of him. Probably why he couldn't get past the boundary line as easily as the bulls. Tyson's one of the homeless orphans."

"One of the what?"

"They're in almost all the big cities," I said distastefully. "They're ... mistakes, Percy. Children of nature spirits and gods ... Well, one god in particular, usually ... and they don't always come out right. No one wants them. They get tossed aside. They grow up wild on the streets. I don't know how this one found you, but he obviously likes you. We should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do."

"But the fire. How –"

"He's a Cyclops." Memories came flooding back, and I pushed them away. "They work the forges of the gods. They have to be immune to fire. That's what I was trying to tell you."

Percy was completely shocked, but Tysons predicament would have to wait. The whole side of the hill was burning. Wounded heroes needed attention. And there were still two banged-up bronze bulls to dispose of, which I didn't figure would fit in our normal recycling bins.

Clarisse came back over and wiped the soot off her forehead. "Jackson, if you can stand, get up. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what's happened."

"Tantalus?" Percy asked. "The activities director," Clarisse said impatiently.

"Chiron is the activities director. And where's Argus? He's head of security. He should be here." Fear crept up my throat and threatened to suffocate me.

Clarisse made a sour face. "Argus got fired. You two have been gone too long. Things are changing."

"But Chiron ... He's trained kids to fight monsters for over three thousand years. He can't just be gone. What happened?"

"That happened," Clarisse snapped. She pointed to Thalia's tree and the color drained from my face. It felt like I was sucked back into my dreams.

My dreams weren't lying. Thalia's tree was dying because someone had poisoned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: NOT ME LITERALLY FORGETTING TO POST THIS. I HAD IT WRITTEN OUT BUT DIDNT POST IT OMFG


	4. Percy Gets a New Cabin Mate

Ever come home and found your room messed up? Like some helpful person (hi, Malcolm please don't clean my space again it may look messy but I know where everything is) has tried to 'clean' it, and suddenly you can't find anything? And even if nothing is missing, you get that creepy feeling like somebody's been looking through your private stuff and dusting everything with lemon furniture polish?

That's kind of the way I felt seeing Camp Half-Blood again.

On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same whitecolumned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley – the amphitheatre, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins – a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counsellors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars. Somebody had messed with my favourite place in the world, and I was not ... well, a happy camper.

As we made our way to the Big House, everybody from my years at camp. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back."

Some did double takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties – running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school. And believe me, I know. I've been kicked out of a couple.

None of that mattered to Tyson. He was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. "Whasthat!" he gasped.

"The stables for pegasi," Percy said. "The winged horses."

"Whasthat!"

"Um ... those are the toilets."

"Whasthat!"

"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes cabin – that brown one over there – until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."

He looked at Percy in awe. "You ... have a cabin?"

"Number three." He pointed to a low grey building made of sea stone.

"You live with friends in the cabin?"

"No. No, just me." Percy didn't explain and neither did I. The embarrassing truth: he was the only one who stayed in that cabin because Percy wasn't supposed to be alive. The 'Big Three' gods – Zeus, Poseidon and Hades – had made a pact after World War II not to have any more children with mortals. They were more powerful than regular half-bloods. They were too unpredictable. When they got mad they tended to cause problems ... like World War II, for instance. The 'Big Three' pact had only been broken twice – once when Zeus sired Thalia, once when Poseidon sired Percy. Neither of them should've been born.

Thalia had got herself turned into a pine tree when she was twelve. Percy ... well, I was doing my best not to let him follow her example. I had dreams about what Poseidon might turn Percy into if he were ever on the verge of death – plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp. It gave me a good laugh when I was sad.

When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favorite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. I guess I should mention – Chiron is a centaur. From the waist up he looks like a regular middle-aged guy with curly brown hair and a scraggly beard. From the waist down, he's a white stallion. He can pass for human by compacting his lower half into a magic wheelchair. But most of the time, if the ceilings are high enough, he prefers hanging out in full centaur form.

Chiron couldn't be leaving. He's always trained demigods since literally forever. My stomach threatened to throw up everything I had eaten before, which wasn't much. Chiron was there for everything I ever did. Shooting my first bow, climbing the lava wall, everything. He was the only person I had left. Thalia, gone. Luke, betrayed. Grover, on a quest that could kill him. Percy, well, he won't make it very far. But Chiron, he was there and he will be there for me. He was like a father to me.

As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

I ran up and hugged him. "Chiron, what's happening? You're not ... leaving?" My voice was shaky. Chiron ruffled my hair and gave me a kindly smile.

"Hello, child. And Percy, my goodness. You've grown over the year!"

Percy swallowed. "Clarisse said you were ... you were..."

"Fired." Chiron's eyes glinted with dark humor.

"Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr D had to punish someone."

"Besides himself, you mean," Percy growled. Just the thought of the camp director, Mr D, made me angry.

"But this is crazy!" I cried. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"

"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Percy asked. Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin–English dictionary into his saddlebag while the Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boombox.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?" Chiron sniffed.

"My dear young Cyclops! I am a centaur."

"Chiron," Percy said. "What about the tree? What happened?"

He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Percy. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."

"Then we know who's responsible. Kro–"

"Do not invoke the titan lord's name, Percy. Especially not here, not now."

"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This has to be his idea. He'd get Luke to do it, that traitor."

"Perhaps," Chiron said. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless..."

"Unless what?" I asked eagerly. I'd do anything to cure Thalia's tree. To make Chiron stay.

"No," Chiron said. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."

"What is it?" Percy asked. "We'll go find it!"

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the STOP button on his boombox. Then he turned and rested his hand on Percy's shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Percy, you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave."

"Why?" Percy asked. "I want to do something! I can't just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be –"

"Overrun by monsters," Chiron said. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life."

It was true, but still, I wanted to help so badly. I also wanted to make Kronos pay. I mean, you'd think the titan lord would've learned his lesson aeons ago when he was overthrown by the gods. You'd think getting chopped into a million pieces and cast into the darkest part of the Underworld would give him a subtle clue that nobody wanted him around. But no. Because he was immortal, he was still alive down there in Tartarus – suffering in eternal pain, hungering to return and take revenge on Olympus. He couldn't act on his own, but he was great at twisting the minds of mortals and even gods to do his dirty work. The poisoning had to be his doing. Who else would be so low as to attack Thalia's tree, the only thing left of a hero who'd given her life to save her friends?

I was trying hard not to cry. Chiron couldn't see how upset I was over this. I needed to be strong for him. Also, Percy would probably make fun of me.

Chiron brushed a tear from my cheek. "Stay with Percy, child," he told me. "Keep him safe. The prophecy – remember it!"

"I-I will."

"Um..." Percy said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about?"

Nobody answered. "Right," Percy muttered. "Just checking."

"Chiron..." I said. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp –"

"Swear you will do your best to keep Percy from danger," he insisted. "Swear upon the River Styx."

"I-I swear it upon the River Styx," I said. Thunder rumbled outside.

"Very well," Chiron said. He seemed to relax just a little. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return. Until then, I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved ... one way or another."

I stifled a sob. Chiron patted my shoulder awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr D and the new activities director. We must hope ... well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."

"Who is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" Percy demanded. "Where does he get off taking your job?"

A conch horn blew across the valley. I hadn't realized how late it was. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner.

"Go," Chiron said. "You will meet him at the pavilion. I will contact your mother, Percy, and let her know you're safe. No doubt she'll be worried by now. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the titan lord has forgotten you!"

With that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"

The best teacher I'd ever had was gone, maybe for good. Tyson started bawling almost as bad as I am. Percy tried to tell us that things would be okay, but I didn't believe it. The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. We stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in.

I was still pretty shaken up, but I promised I'd talk to them later. Then I went off to join my siblings from the Athena cabin – a dozen boys and girls with blonde hair and grey eyes like mine.

I wasn't the oldest, but I'd been at camp more summers than just about anybody. You could tell that by looking at my camp necklace – one bead for every summer, and I had six. No one questioned my right to lead the line.

Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares cabin. She had one arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but otherwise her encounter with the bronze bulls didn't seem to have fazed her. Someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that said, YOU MOO, GIRL! But nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about it.

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin – six guys led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen year-old African American kid. He had hands the size of catchers' mitts and a face that was hard and squinty from looking into a blacksmith's forge all day. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles. Most just called him Beckendorf. 

Rumor was he could make anything. Give him a chunk of metal and he could create a razor-sharp sword or a robotic warrior or a singing birdbath for your grandmother's garden. Whatever you wanted. 

The other cabins filed in: Demeter, Apollo, Aphrodite, Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake. Dryads melted out of the trees. 

From the meadow came a dozen satyrs, who reminded me painfully of Grover. I'd always had a soft spot for the satyrs. When they were at camp, they had to do all kinds of odd jobs for Mr D, the director, but their most important work was out in the real world.

They were the camp's seekers. They went undercover into schools all over the world, looking for potential half bloods and escorting them back to camp. That's how I'd met Grover. He had been the one to help me get to camp.

After the satyrs filed in to dinner, the Hermes cabin brought up the rear. They were always the biggest cabin.

Last summer, it had been led by Luke, the guy who'd fought with Thalia and me on top of Half-Blood Hill. Luke had befriended me... and then he'd tried to kill my friends. Now the Hermes cabin was led by Travis and Connor Stoll. They weren't twins, but they looked so much alike it didn't matter.

I could never remember which one was older. They were both tall and skinny, with mops of brown hair that hung in their eyes. They wore orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD t-shirts untucked over baggy shorts, and they had those elfish features all Hermes's kids had: upturned eyebrows, sarcastic smiles, a gleam in their eyes whenever they looked at you – like they were about to drop a firecracker down your shirt. 

As soon as the last campers had filed in, Percy led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion. Conversations faltered. Heads turned.

"Who invited that?" Somebody at the Apollo table murmured. Percy glared in their direction, but he couldn't figure out who'd spoken.

From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter Johnson. My millennium is complete."

I stifled a laugh.

"Percy Jackson ... sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days, whatever."

He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr D one at a time. Mr D's real name is Dionysus. The god of wine. Zeus appointed him director of Camp Half-Blood to dry out for a hundred years – a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph. Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was someone I'd never seen before – a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jumpsuit. The number over his pocket read 0001. He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails and badly cut grey hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker.

He stared at Percy; he looked ... fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry all at the same time.

"This boy," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's child, you know."

"Ah!" the prisoner said. "That one."

His tone made it obvious that he and Dionysus had already discussed me at length.

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

"Trouble?" Percy demanded. Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared on the table – the front page of today's New York Post. There was his yearbook picture from Meriwether Prep. It was hard for me to make out the headline, but I had a pretty good guess what it said. Something like: Thirteen-Year-Old Lunatic Torches Gymnasium.

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

I snorted. Like it was his fault the gods had almost got into a civil war? A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecued meat in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said,

"Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will work."

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned towards the plate of meat. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy.

"Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

"You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," Percy said. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

Tantalus sneered at Percy. "A real scholar, aren't you, boy?"

"You must've done something really horrible when you were alive," Percy said, sounding mildly impressed.

"What was it?" Tantalus's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the satyrs were shaking their heads vigorously, trying to warn him.

"I'll be watching you, Percy Jackson," Tantalus said. "I don't want any problems at my camp."

"Your camp has problems already ... sir."

"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. "I believe that table over there is yours – the one where no one else ever wants to sit."

Percy's face was burning, but I knew better than to talk back. Dionysus was an overgrown brat, but he was an immortal, superpowerful overgrown brat. Percy said, "Come on, Tyson."

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

"Him," Percy snapped. "His name is Tyson."

The new activities director raised an eyebrow.

"Tyson saved the camp," Percy insisted. "He pounded those bronze bulls. Otherwise they would've burned down this whole place."

"Yes," Tantalus sighed, "and what a pity that would've been."

Dionysus snickered.

"Leave us," Tantalus ordered, "while we decide this creature's fate." Tyson looked at Percy with fear in his one big eye.

"I'll be right over here, big guy," Percy promised. "Don't worry. We'll find you a good place to sleep tonight."

Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."

I turned back to my siblings as Percy trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench. A wood nymph brought me a plate of Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza, but I wasn't hungry. I'd been almost today. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron had told me not to do anything about it. I didn't think things could get much worse. But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.

* * * 

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told."

As he spoke, he inched his hand towards his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within twenty centimeters.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued as if nothing had happened, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some half-hearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back. "And now some changes!"

Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!" Murmuring broke out at all the tables – excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days' time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

An explosion of excited conversation – no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning? Was he serious? Then the last person I expected to object did so.

"But, sir!" Clarisse said. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. Some of the campers snickered when they saw the YOU MOO, GIRL! sign on her back. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots –"

"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't –"

"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"

"But the tree –"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here."

Tantalus waved a hand towards Tyson. Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers. A lot of sideways looks at me. I wanted to kill Tantalus. "Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. Travis and Connor Stoll developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. I couldn't blame them. The Hermes cabin was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a two-meter Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kennelled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped. Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the brilliant green light – a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head. With a sickening twist in my stomach, I remembered what I had said to Percy about Cyclopes, They're the children of nature spirits and gods ... Well, one god in particular, usually ... Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident – the same symbol that had appeared above Percy the day Poseidon had claimed him as his son.

There was a moment of awed silence. Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When Percy had been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt. But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter.

"Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Everybody laughed except me and a few of my other friends. Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were. But I got it. Percy had a new cabin mate. He had a monster for a half-brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: school's been hard lately so posting chapters is going to have weird schedules and im really sorry about that!!


	5. Demon Pigeons Attack

The next few days were torture, just like Tantalus wanted.

First there was Tyson moving into the Poseidon cabin, giggling to himself every fifteen seconds and saying, “Percy is my brother?” like he’d just won the lottery.

“Aw, Tyson,” Percy would say. “It’s not that simple.”

But there was no explaining it to him. He was in heaven. And Percy . . . he seemed embarrassed, not that I blamed him.

His father, the all-powerful Poseidon, had gotten moony-eyed for some nature spirit, and Tyson had been the result. I’d read the myths about Cyclopes, and I knew that they were often Poseidon’s children. But I don’t think Percy really processed that this made them his . . . family until he had Tyson living with him in the next bunk.

And then there were the comments from the other campers. Suddenly, he wasn’t Percy Jackson, the cool guy who’d retrieved Zeus’s lightning bolt last summer. Now he was Percy Jackson, the poor schmuch with the ugly monster for a brother.

“He’s not my _real_ brother!” he protested whenever Tyson wasn’t around. “He’s more like a half-brother on the monstrous side of the family. Like . . . a half-brother twice removed, or something.”

Nobody bought it.

I tried to make him feel better by suggesting we team up for the chariot race to take our minds off our problems. Don’t get me wrong – we both hated Tantalus and we were worried sick about camp – but we didn’t know what to do about it. Until we could come up with some brilliant plan to save Thalia’s tree, we figured we might as well go along with the races. After all, my mom, Athena, had invented the chariot, and Percy's dad had created horses. Together we would own that track.

One morning Percy and I were sitting by the canoe lake sketching chariot designs when some jokers from Aphrodite’s cabin walked by and asked if Percy needed to borrow some eyeliner for his eye … "Oh, sorry, eyes."

As they walked away laughing, I grumbled, "Just ignore them, Percy. It isn’t your fault you have a monster for a brother."

"He’s not my brother!" Percy snapped. "And he’s not a monster, either!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Hey, don’t get mad at me! And technically, he is a monster."

"Well, you gave him permission to enter the camp."

"Because it was the only way to save your life! I mean … I’m sorry, Percy, I didn’t expect Poseidon to claim him. Cyclopes are the most deceitful, treacherous –"

"He is not! What have you got against Cyclopes, anyway?"

I felt my ears burn a little. "Just forget it," I said, changing the subject. "Now, the axle for this chariot –"

"You’re treating him like he’s this horrible thing," Percy said. "He saved my life."

I threw down my pencil and stood. If Percy wanted to be a hypocritical piece of kelp, then fine. "Then maybe you should design a chariot with him."

"Maybe I should."

"Fine!"

"Fine!" I stormed off, feeling even worse than before.

In the next couple of days, I helped in different activities and made myself take the harder jobs to keep my mind off my problems. It didn't really work. After lunch, I kept up the work on the chariot for my cabin with the help of one of my siblings, Aaron. He was filipino and a few years older than me, though he was friends with Beckendorf so he picked up a couple of things. Even if we didn't have Percy's help, we didn't need him to win. And in the evenings, I did border patrol. Even though Tantalus had insisted we forget trying to protect the camp, some of the campers had quietly kept it up, working out a schedule during our free times.

I sat near the edges of the woods and watched the dryads come and go, singing to the dying pine tree. Satyrs brought their reed pipes and played nature magic songs, and for a while the pine needles seemed to get fuller. The flowers on the hill smelled a little sweeter and the grass looked greener. But as soon as the music stopped, the sickness crept back into the air. The whole hill seemed to be infected, dying from the poison that had sunk into the tree’s roots. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got.

Luke had done this. I remembered his sly smile, the dragon-claw scar across his face. He’d pretended to be my friend, and the whole time he’d been Kronos’s number-one servant. I twirled my dagger in my hand, Luke had given me this. I had contemplated throwing it away before, but I didn't really use any other weapons, and besides, maybe there was a deeper meaning why Luke had done this all.

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees – fat grey-and-white pigeons, except they didn’t coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded me of submarine radar.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus’s cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they’d had their heads smashed in, to plough an oval track in a matter of minutes. There were rows of stone steps for the spectators – Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads and all of the campers who weren’t participating. Mr D didn’t show. He never got up before ten o’clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke his right hand chased a chocolate eclair across the judge’s table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!"

Tantalus smiled at us like we were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s’mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron – even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. I had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.

The Ares chariot was blood-red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops and a bunch of other nasty toys. Apollo’s chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes’s chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn’t been out of the garage in years. It didn’t look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, and I shuddered to think what dirty tricks they’d schemed up.

That left two chariots: one driven by Percy, and the other by me. Before the race began, he tried to approach me and tell me about his dream. I perked up when Percy mentioned Grover, but when he told me what he’d said, I started to get suspicious.

"You’re trying to distract me," I decided. "What? No, I’m not!"

"Oh, right! Like Grover would just happen to stumble across the one thing that could save the camp."

"What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes. "Go back to your chariot, Percy."

"I’m not making this up. He’s in trouble, Annabeth."

I hesitated. Percy wouldn't normally try to distract me, that was too elaborate plan for him. but despite our occasional fights, we’d been through a lot together. And I didn't want anything bad to happen to Grover.

"Percy, an empathy link is so hard to do. I mean, it’s more likely you really were dreaming."

"The Oracle," Percy said. "We could consult the Oracle."

I frowned but before I could answer, the conch horn sounded.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

"We’ll talk later," I told Percy, "after I win."

As I was walking back to my chariot, I noticed how many more pigeons were in the trees now – screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. Nobody else seemed to be paying them much attention, but they made me nervous. Their beaks glinted strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds.

Now, if you’ve never seen a Greek chariot, it’s built for speed, not safety or comfort. It’s basically a wooden basket, open at the back, mounted on an axle between two wheels. The driver stands up the whole time, and you can feel every bump in the road. The carriage is made of such light wood that if you wipe out making the hairpin turns at either end of the track, you’ll probably tip over and crush both the chariot and yourself.

I took the reins and maneuvered the chariot to the starting line. Aaron jumped into the chariot and gave me a wild grin. "We're gonna to win."

I sometimes like to argue that Aaron was one of the more crazier campers, but most campers that weren't children of Athena disagreed with me.

As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the campers in the stands were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn’t look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!" He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped.

The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered. Almost immediately there was a loud nasty crack! I looked back in time to see the Apollo chariot flip over. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it – maybe by mistake, maybe not. The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track.

The Hermes team, Travis and Connor Stoll, were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust. Two chariots down in the first six meters. I loved this sport.

We were way ahead of Ares and Percy's chariots. I was already making my turn around the first post, Aaron grinned and waving at Percy and Tyson, shouting, "See ya!"

I turned my attention back to the front. The background noises slowly turned muffled and it was just me and my chariot, driving our way to victory.

"Birds!" Aaron cried suddenly, making me lose concentration for a second. "What?" We were whipping along so fast it was hard to hear or see anything, but Aaron pointed towards the woods and I saw what he was worried about. The pigeons had risen from the trees. They were spiralling like a huge tornado, heading towards the track.

 _No big deal_ , I told myself. They’re just pigeons. I turned my concentration to the race again.

I looked behind me again, and found that Percy was now only three meters behind us. Aaron wasn’t smiling now. He pulled a javelin from his collection and took aim at them. He was about to throw when we heard the screaming. The pigeons were swarming – thousands of them dive-bombing the spectators in the stands, attacking the other chariots.

Beckendorf was mobbed. His fighter tried to bat the birds away but he couldn’t see anything. The chariot veered off course and ploughed through the strawberry fields, the mechanical horses steaming.

In the Ares chariot, Clarisse barked an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter’s hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.

The spectators weren’t so lucky. The birds were slashing at any bit of exposed flesh, driving everyone into a panic. Now that the birds were closer, it was clear they weren’t normal pigeons. Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and, judging from the yelps of the campers, they must’ve been razor sharp.

"Stymphalian birds!" I yelled and slowed down and pulled my chariot alongside Percy's. "They’ll strip everyone to bones if we don’t drive them away!"

"Tyson," Percy said, "we’re turning around!"

"Going the wrong way?" he asked.

"Always," I grumbled, but I steered the chariot towards the stands. Percy rode right next to me.

I shouted, "Heroes, to arms!" But I wasn’t sure anyone could hear me over the screeching of the birds and the general chaos.

I held my reins in one hand and managed to draw my dagger as a wave of birds dived at my face, their metal beaks snapping. I slashed them out of the air and they exploded into dust and feathers, but there were still millions of them left. One nailed me in the back end and I almost jumped straight out of the chariot.

Percy wasn’t having much better luck. The closer we got to the stands, the thicker the cloud of birds became. Some of the spectators were trying to fight back. The Athena campers were calling for shields. The archers from Apollo’s cabin brought out their bows and arrows, ready to slay the menace, but with so many campers mixed in with the birds, it wasn’t safe to shoot.

"Too many!" Percy yelled to me, as if I didn't have eyes. "How do you get rid of them?"

I stabbed at a pigeon with my knife. "Heracles used noise! Brass bells! He scared them away with the most horrible sound he could –" My eyes got wide. "Percy … Chiron’s collection!"

"You think it’ll work?" I handed Aaron the reins and leaped from my chariot into Percy's. I smirked at his facial expression. "To the Big House! It’s our only chance!"

Clarisse had just pulled across the finish line, completely unopposed, and seemed to notice for the first time how serious the bird problem was. When she saw us driving away, she yelled, "You’re running? The fight is here, cowards!"

She drew her sword and charged for the stands. Percy urged his horses into a gallop. The chariot rumbled through the strawberry fields, across the volleyball pit, and lurched to a halt in front of the Big House. Percy and I ran inside, tearing down the hallway to Chiron’s apartment. His boom box was still on his nightstand. So were his favorite CDs. Percy grabbed the most repulsive one he could find, I snatched the boom box, and together we ran back outside.

Down at the track, the chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair, while Tantalus chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything’s under control! Not to worry!" We pulled up to the finish line.

I got the boom box ready and prayed the batteries weren’t dead. I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron’s favorite – the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian. The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skywards in a huge dark wave.

"Now!" I shouted. "Archers!"

With clear targets, Apollo’s archers had flawless aim. Most of them could nock five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon. The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn’t pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks.

The kids from Aphrodite’s cabin were screaming because their hairdos had been ruined and their clothes pooped on.

"Bravo!" Tantalus said, but he wasn’t looking at me or Percy. "We have our first winner!" He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse. Then he turned and smiled at me. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! And again, I'm trying to add more POC characters when I can but it's a bit hard to.


	6. Tantalus is a Major Party Pooper

The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Percy, Tyson and I hadn’t disturbed them with our bad chariot driving.

This was so completely unfair, Percy told Tantalus to go chase a doughnut, which didn’t help his mood. He sentenced us to kitchen patrol – scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed with lava instead of water, to get that extra clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Percy and I had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons. 

Tyson didn’t mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Percy and I had to suffer through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse’s chariot victory – a full course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird. The only good thing about our punishment was that it gave Percy and me a common enemy and lots of time to talk.

After listening to his dream about Grover again, I couldn't help but realize that Percy wasn't lying.

"If he’s really found it," I murmured, "and if we could retrieve it –"

"Hold on," Percy said. "You act like this … whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save the camp. What is it?"

"I’ll give you a hint. What do you get when you skin a ram?"

"Messy?"

I sighed. "A fleece. The coat of a ram is called a fleece. And if that ram happens to have golden wool –"

"The Golden Fleece. Are you serious?"

I scraped a plateful of death-bird bones into the lava. "Percy, remember the Grey Sisters? They said they knew the location of the thing you seek. And they mentioned Jason. Three thousand years ago, they told him how to find the Golden Fleece. You do know the story of Jason and the Argonauts?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "That old movie with the clay skeletons."

I rolled my eyes. When was he going to realize that most movies were unreliable? "Oh my gods, Percy! You are so hopeless."

"What?" He demanded.

"Just listen. The real story of the Fleece: there were these two children of Zeus, Cadmus and Europa, okay? They were about to get offered up as human sacrifices, when they prayed to Zeus to save them. So Zeus sent this magical flying ram with golden wool, which picked them up in Greece and carried them all the way to Colchis in Asia Minor. Well, actually it carried Cadmus. Europa fell off and died along the way, but that’s not important."

"It was probably important to her."

" _The point is_ , when Cadmus got to Colchis, he sacrificed the golden ram to the gods and hung the Fleece in a tree in the middle of the kingdom. The Fleece brought prosperity to the land. Animals stopped getting sick. Plants grew better. Farmers had bumper crops. Plagues never visited. That’s why Jason wanted the Fleece. It can revitalize any land where it’s placed. It cures sickness, strengthens nature, cleans up pollution –"

"It could cure Thalia’s tree."

I nodded. "And it would totally strengthen the borders of Camp Half-Blood. But Percy, the Fleece has been missing for centuries. Tons of heroes have searched for it with no luck."

"But Grover found it," he said. "He went looking for Pan and he found the Fleece instead because they both radiate nature magic. It makes sense, Annabeth. We can rescue him and save the camp at the same time. It’s perfect!"

I hesitated. "A little too perfect, don’t you think? What if it’s a trap?"

I remembered last summer, how Kronos had manipulated our quest. He’d almost fooled us into helping him start a war that would’ve destroyed Western Civilization.

"What choice do we have?" Percy asked. "Are you going to help me rescue Grover or not?"

I glanced at Tyson, who’d lost interest in our conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.

"Percy," I said under my breath, "we’ll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the worst of the Cyclopes. And there’s only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."

"Where’s that?"

I stared at him. Oh my gods tell me he was playing dumb. "The Sea of Monsters. The same sea Odysseus sailed through, and Jason, and Aeneas and all the others."

"You mean the Mediterranean?"

"No. Well, yes … but no."

"Another straight answer. Thanks."

"Look, Percy, the Sea of Monsters is the sea all heroes sail through on their adventures. It used to be in the Mediterranean, yes. But like everything else, it shifts locations as the West’s centre of power shifts."

"Like Mount Olympus being above the Empire State Building," Percy said. "And Hades being under Los Angeles."

"Right." _Look who's finally catching on_.

"But a whole sea full of monsters – how could you hide something like that? Wouldn’t the mortals notice weird things happening … like, ships getting eaten and stuff?"

"Of course they notice. They don’t understand, but they know something is strange about that part of the ocean. The Sea of Monsters is off the east coast of the U.S. now, just north-east of Florida. The mortals even have a name for it."

"The Bermuda Triangle?"

"Exactly." I let that sink in.

"Okay … so at least we know where to look."

"It’s still a huge area, Percy. Searching for one tiny island in monster-infested waters –"

"Hey, I’m the son of the sea god. This is my home turf. How hard can it be?"

I knitted my eyebrows. "We’ll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He’ll say no."

"Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody. The whole camp will hear. They’ll pressure him. He won’t be able to refuse."

"Maybe." A little bit of hope crept into my voice. "We’d better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?"

***

That night at the campfire, Apollo’s cabin led the sing-along. They tried to get everybody’s spirits up, but it wasn’t easy after that afternoons bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing half-heartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.

We did all the standard camp numbers: ‘Down by the Aegean’, ‘I Am My Own Great-Great-GreatGreat-Grandpa’, ‘This Land is Minos’s Land’.

The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing color and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I’d seen it six meters high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row’s marshmallows burst into flames. Tonight, the fire was only a meter high, barely warm, and the flames were the color of lint.

Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back towards the Big House.

When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"

He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames.

Tantalus turned back towards us, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow’s schedule."

"Sir," Percy said.

Tantalus’s eye twitched. "Our kitchen boy has something to say?" Some of the Ares campers snickered, but Percy ignored them. Percy stood up and I followed his lead. He shot me a grateful look.

He said, "We have an idea to save the camp."

Dead silence, but I could tell he'd got everybody’s interest, because the campfire flared bright yellow.

"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with chariots –"

"The Golden Fleece," Percy said. "We know where it is."

The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop him, Percy blurted out his dream about Grover and Polyphemus’s island.

I stepped in and reminded everybody what the Fleece could do. It sounded more convincing coming from me than Percy.

"The Fleece can save the camp," I concluded. "I’m certain of it."

"Nonsense," said Tantalus. "We don’t need saving."

Everybody stared at him until Tantalus started looking uncomfortable.

"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That’s hardly an exact location. You wouldn’t even know where to look."

"Yes, I would," Percy said.

I blinked, leaning towards him and whispered, "You would?"

Percy nodded, "Thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve," Percy said. 

At first those numbers seemed like random coordinates but now...

"Ooo-kay," Tantalus said. "Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers."

"They’re sailing coordinates," Percy explained. "Latitude and longitude. I, uh, learned about it in social studies." 

I was impressed. I didn't realize he payed attention during school.

"Thirty degrees, thirty-one minutes north, seventy-five degrees, twelve minutes west. He’s right! The Grey Sisters gave us those coordinates. That’d be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!"

"Wait just a minute," Tantalus said. But the campers took up the chant.

"We need a quest! We need a quest!"

The flames rose higher.

"It isn’t necessary!" Tantalus insisted.

"WE NEED A QUEST! WE NEED A QUEST!"

"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger.

"You brats want me to assign a quest?"

"YES!"

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."

My heart filled with excitement. I wasn’t going to let Tantalus scare me. This was what I needed to do. I was going to save Grover and the camp. Nothing would stop me.

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose two companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champions is obvious."

Tantalus looked at Percy and me as if he wanted to flay us alive. "The champion should be one who has earned the camp’s respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defense of the camp. You shall lead this quest … Clarisse!"

The fire flickered a thousand different colors. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, "CLARISSE! CLARISSE!"

Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. "I accept the quest!"

"Wait!" Percy shouted. "Grover is my friend. The dream came to me."

"Sit down!" yelled one of the Ares campers. "You had your chance last summer!"

"Yeah, he just wants to be in the spotlight again!" another said, and with good point. He had already gone on a quest.

Clarisse glared at Percy. "I accept the quest!" she repeated. "I, Clarisse, daughter of Ares, will save the camp!"

The Ares campers cheered even louder. I protested, and my siblings joined in. Everybody else started taking sides – shouting and arguing and throwing marshmallows.

I thought it was going to turn into a fully fledged s’more war until Tantalus shouted, "Silence, you brats!"

His tone stunned even me.

"Sit down!" he ordered. "And I will tell you a ghost story." 

I didn’t know what he was up to, but we all moved reluctantly back to our seats. The evil aura radiating from Tantalus was as strong as any monster I’d ever faced.

"Once upon a time there was a mortal king who was beloved of the gods!" Tantalus put his hand on his chest, and I got the feeling he was talking about himself. 

"This king," he said, "was even allowed to feast on Mount Olympus. But when he tried to take some ambrosia and nectar back to earth to figure out the recipe – just one little doggy bag, mind you – the gods punished him. They banned him from their halls forever! His own people mocked him! His children scolded him! And, oh yes, campers, he had horrible children. Children – just – like – you!"

He pointed a crooked finger at several people in the audience, including me. 

"Do you know what he did to his ungrateful children?" Tantalus asked softly. "Do you know how he paid back the gods for their cruel punishment? He invited the Olympians to a feast at his palace, just to show there were no hard feelings. No one noticed that his children were missing. And when he served the gods dinner, my dear campers, can you guess what was in the stew?"

No one dared answer. The firelight glowed dark blue, reflecting evilly on Tantalus’s crooked face.

"Oh, the gods punished him in the afterlife," Tantalus croaked. "They did indeed. But he’d had his moment of satisfaction, hadn’t he? His children never again spoke back to him or questioned his authority. And do you know what? Rumor has it that the king’s spirit now dwells at this very camp, waiting for a chance to take revenge on ungrateful, rebellious children. And so … are there any more complaints, before we send Clarisse off on her quest?"

Silence. Tantalus nodded at Clarisse. "The Oracle, my dear. Go on."

She shifted uncomfortably, like even she didn’t want glory at the price of being Tantalus’s pet.

"Sir –"

"Go!" he snarled. She bowed awkwardly and hurried off towards the Big House. 

"What about you, Percy Jackson?" Tantalus asked. "No comments from our dishwasher?"

Percy kept quite.

"Good," Tantalus said. "And let me remind everyone – no one leaves this camp without my permission. Anyone who tries … well, if they survive the attempt, they will be expelled forever, but it won’t come to that. The harpies will be enforcing curfew from now on, and they are always hungry! Good night, my dear campers. Sleep well."

With a wave of Tantalus’s hand, the fire was extinguished, and the campers trailed off towards their cabins in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: School's been really tough of me and i've been doing a million other things as well so im very sorry about the terrible posting schedule!


End file.
